Bittersweet Revenge
by thebestoftimes11
Summary: "Tread carefully, watch your back, and never let your guard down, Nicky. We can't afford to lose anyone else." Two attacks on CSI's on opposite sides of town throw the lab into a state of unrest. Four CSI's hospitalised, three suspects, two minutes, one killer.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea came to me when I was riding my horse one day, and I knew it would continue to bug me until I set finger to keyboard! I hope you enjoy. **

**Oh, and I just wanted to say thank you to the few people who read/reviewed my other CSI fic. It means a lot when people say they like my work!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI :(**

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_The cold muzzle of a gun against her temple._

**_"Breathe a word and you won't see the light of tomorrow."_**

_A vicelike grip crushing her fragile bones._

**_"I want revenge. Nothing will stand in my way."_**

_A sharp prick on her arm._

**_"I've been through hell. It's time you paid."_**

_Black._

* * *

Delicate petals blew across the lawn, each dewy stalk headed with a glittering droplet, perfectly balanced and gently shimmering. A handsome Texan disturbed the tranquil beauty, scuffed boots treading across the grass, making soft indents in the ground. A dark bay horse stood in her stable, head over the door, bright eyes fixed on her owner as he approached. Running a hand across her smooth coat, Nicholas Stokes rested a tanned hand upon his horse's neck, allowing her to lip his other palm gently. The horse's beautiful eyes emanated nothing but raw love and pure trust for the man before her, her velvet muzzle rubbing the back of Nick's hand as she searched his person for treats.

"What are you looking for, Beatrix?" Nick laughed, face creased with a deep and genuine smile as his horse rubbed her head against his strong chest. Nick stepped back, taking a worn leather bridle from a hook by the large oak doors into the barn, brushing flecks of chipped red paint from the braided brow band. He gently pushed the metal bit into Beatrix's mouth, slipping the headpiece over her ears and pulling her silky forelock over the brow band. Doing up the various buckles, Nick patted his trusty steed's strong neck, leading her out of the barn and swinging himself up onto her back in one fluid motion. He felt her bare back muscles rippling beneath him as she followed his precise instructions and walked through the long grass, slender legs brushing the blooming flowers. Nick took a deep breath, giving Beatrix full rein as they reached the field, allowing her to stretch her neck and guide them around the large paddock. It had been a couple of months since Nick had been buried alive, and he had taken the time out to recuperate at his father's picturesque Texas ranch, leaving his dearest friends to handle the gruelling cases. Thinking back to his hellish time in the box, Nick felt the cold muzzle of the gun against his throat, the sharp pain of the fire-ants crawling across his skin, the uncut terror burning in his stomach as he realised that he was trapped, thrown into a box and left for dead. Shaking his head free of such thoughts, Nick raised a hand, removing his cream cowboy hat and running a hand though his lustrous brunette locks, few strands falling across his tanned forehead. Placing his cowboy hat back onto this head, Nick took up the reins, pressing his heels into Beatrix's sides and pushing her forward into a steady, loping canter across the field. Beatrix pushed forward, lengthening her stride, muscles working as she carried Nick bareback through the grass, whispering leaves brushing Nick's arms as they rode through a dappled glade. Nick closed his eyes, closing his tenderly damaged soul from prying eyes, relaxing into Beatrix's gentle movements and allowing his horse to lead the way.

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Nick brushed a few glistening beads of sweat from his brow, fingertips tracing across a faint scar delicately lined across his forehead, a permanent reminder of his short time in hell. He dropped the reins, giving Beatrix a sweeping stroke down her muscled neck, before slipping off her back and leading her towards the nearby hose. Tying her reins around the worn wooden post, Nick turned the tap on, only to be showered in a spray of pearly droplets, completely soaking his plaid shirt and ripped jeans. Nick groaned, running a hand through his glossy locks as he stared down at his ruined clothing, mind working desperately to think of some means of escape from the damp mess. He bit his lip, pearly teeth dragging across the velvet skin as he undid the buttons of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders to reveal a perfectly toned chest, the result of many gruelling training sessions. Muscles steadily rippling, Nick turned the now working hose onto Beatrix, allowing the shimmering crystals to cascade over her body, glittering beautifully in the sunlight. Once she had been washed free of any sweat, Nick wiped any excess water away with a strong hand, before covering her with strong fly repellent. Grabbing a carrot from the feed room, Nick untied Beatrix's reins and led her to the nearest paddock. He unbuckled her bridle and allowed her to step inside, offering her the carrot as she walked past and into the field. She took it between her pearly teeth, crunching the orange delight as she made her way across the field to her best friend, Sandy. The two nuzzled each other, before settling down to pick at the luscious grass, tiny few drops glinting at the head of each stalk. Nick smiled to himself, looping the bridle over his bare shoulder and heading back up to the barn. A familiar ringing came from his pocket, and he pulled out the small cell he used for work.

"Stokes."

"Nick, it's Grissom." the entomologist sounded terse, voice brittle, words rushed and threaded with raw worry.

"Griss, what's up? You sound shaken."

"You would be correct, Nick. Listen, I'm sorry to cut your break short but I'm afraid we need you back-"

"But-" Nick began, only to be silenced by Grissom's harsh tones flooding the speaker.

"Nick, listen! There have been two separate attacks on CSI's on either side of town. You're one of your best guys and we need you on this case."

Nick's blood ran cold.

"What happened?"

Pause.

"I'll tell you when you get over here. Just get your ass on the first flight to Vegas."

Silence.

Nick pulled his phone from his ear, hands shaking slightly.

His friends were in danger.

What if it was too late for some of them?

What if death's cruel and cold fingers had already prised them from him?

He had to get back to Vegas.

Fast.

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**Uh oh...**

**Thanks for reading! thebestoftimes11 x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/Nl: Wow! Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/alerted the last chapter, it really means a lot! The positive feedback you reviewers gave was great, thank you all! :) **

**Just to clarify, anything in italics is not happening at present, but happened at the time of the attacks.**

**Disclaimer: don't own CSI, never will :(**

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Beads of sweat glistened upon the young man's brow, each perfectly formed and glittering in the dim lights. His lips hung slightly parted, revealing rows of pearly white teeth, a soft murmur escaping them every now and then. His fists clenched and unclenched, slender fingers closing around the crisp white sheets adorning the bed.

_"How can you live with yourself?"_

The young man groaned, hot, blinding pain coursing through his body with each slight movement.

_"You CSI's are dead to me. Hear me? Dead."_

His vision blurred with salty crystals, breathing laboured as he struggled to draw sweet air into his burning lungs.

_"My daughter is dead because of you. Now it's time you were too."_

A light hand upon his forearm calmed the young man's erratic heart, slowing his train of wild thought and dream to a halt and opening his glistening eyes to the vibrant world around him.

"Greggo? You alright?" A thick Texan drawl met his ears, the sound beautifully tuneful in comparison to his own deathly screams of raw pain laced with pure terror of that night.

"Nicky? Why'd you come back?" Greg breathed, voice a bare whisper, tones threading through the incessant beeping of the various machines clustered around his bed. Nick gave a soft smile, even teeth stark white in his perfectly tanned face.

"I came back for you guys. I need to find out who did this to you."

_Shallow breathing._

"I know what you're going to ask me. I'm sorry, Nick, but I can't remember much."

_Fingers trembling._

"It's ok, G. I know this is going to be difficult for you, but anything you can remember, you need to tell me."

_Palms sweating._

"I will. I promise."

_Desperate reasoning._

"Thanks. Get better soon, G. We need you on the team. We're nothing without our hyperactive lab rat turned serious CSI."

_Holistic staring._

"I'll try."

_Bullet racing._

_Bang._

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A pair of beautifully tragic eyes stared out from behind a curtain of blonde tresses, thick eyelashes guarding a flawed soul.

"Nicky, I'm sorry. I can't remember much. J-Just-"

_"Breathe a word and you won't see the light of tomorrow."_

"Don't worry, Catherine. Just, if you can remember anything, let me know, ok?"

_"I want revenge. Nothing will stand in my way."_

"I promise, the first thing I remember will be relayed back to you."

_"I've been through hell. It's time you paid."_

"Don't strain yourself to remember things you can't. Give it some time," Nick spoke softly, gentle accent finely littered with catches of deep emotion. Catherine nodded, gaze fixed on her slender fingers entwined with the bed sheets, a lone tear rolling down her bruised cheek. Nick's fingertips gently brushed the droplet away as he rose to his feet, gazing down upon his pained coworker. "Don't cry, Cat. You're the strongest woman I know, you inspire me. I know you'll never give up." Catherine allowed the slightest smile to tug at the corner of her velvet lips, giving a small nod as Nick squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and left the room. A short burst of pain in her arm hailed Catherine's attention, and she stared at the tiny prick in her creamy skin, eyes clouded with bewilderment at the origin of the slight cut.

_A sharp prick on her arm._

* * *

Nick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, back muscles rippling as he walked through the sterile labyrinth. Catching sight of his boss at the end of the corridor, he quickened the pace slightly, noting Grissom's slightly irritated posture.

"So, Griss, how are Warrick and Sara?" Grissom glanced up at Nick, eyes aflame with anger and slight passion, before turning on his heel and leading Nick towards the car park.

"I'll tell you on the way to the scene." Grissom's tone was harsh and clipped, as though the situation had deeply affected him emotionally. Nick could only follow Grissom towards the imposing black SUV parked in the most isolated area of the car park. Nick slipped into the passenger seat, watching as Grissom slammed the door, pushed the keys into the ignition and threw the car into gear. The strong, forceful movements were uncharacteristic for the generally subdued entomologist, and Nick looked over at the man, concern flooding his brain.

"You ok, Grissom?"

"No, I'm not ok. These idiots could've killed them, and after everything that's happened I can't afford to lose, or come close to losing, anyone else!" Grissom was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles had turned a dangerous shade of white, threatening to burst out of his skin. "We're all a family now, and I hate seeing anyone hurt," The man admitted through clenched teeth, eyes fixed on the stretch of road ahead. "Seeing Sara and Warrick lying there, looking so vulnerable bound in those sheets, unable to recall anything about the accidents, makes me feel sick. Makes me realise how much I care about my team." Nick nodded empathetically, images of both Greg and Catherine invading his mind, previously strong souls and bodies having fallen victim to sick, wannabe killers.

"We'll find them, Griss. They won't get away with this."

"I sure hope we get them, Nick."

"We will. For their sake, we have to." Greg's beautifully pained eyes, hidden behind boyishly thick lashes, gazing out from his bruised face was enough to encourage Nick to pursue the person who had committed such a foul deed, never mind the raw, bloody cuts encircling Catherine's slight wrists. Nick sneaked a glance across at Grissom, whose eyes were blazing with such fire that Nick was slightly afraid of his boss' capabilites, and registered a touch of scarred love within those bright orbs. Grissom was willing to fight for Sara, and of course the rest of his badly broken team, just as Nick was willing to give anything for his closest friends.

"Even if we die trying."

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**Thanks for reading! :) **

**thebestoftimes11 x**


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